


Hidden Cuts

by Alette



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Dramatic, Emotional, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-02-12
Packaged: 2018-05-20 00:12:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5985799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alette/pseuds/Alette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chanyeol watches Kyungsoo for now, for ever. Jealousy makes cuts that never heal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hidden Cuts

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fanfiction worth something. Forgive me for OOC moments

Jealousy is not a monster. It is a knife.  
A knife with a thin, sharp blade, that slides between your ribcage before you can feel it. It stabs at your heart, cutting it, flaying it, making it bleed. Sometimes the blade stops moving, so that you forget about it for one painless moment, and then something happens to push it in deeper than before.  
Chanyeol learned all about this a long time ago. He couldn’t remember when he had gotten the first cut, but he remembered the feel of it. It was a small, nagging pain at first. He had done what he could-- he had denied it, then accepted it, tried to push it down and stitch it up. None of it had worked. The sutures opened, and the cut widened. And Chanyeol could never escape from it, because it lived in his room.  
Kyungsoo was lying on his belly, looking at something on his phone. His beautiful, expressive eyes glistened with the LED glow. The black hair was still short, but would grow out soon enough. Kyungsoo ran his fingers through it once, and then his hand was back to his phone.  
He didn’t notice Chanyeol watching him. He rarely did. Chanyeol preferred it like that. If Kyungsoo noticed him more, he might realize something, and Chanyeol had long ago found that he didn't want that. For Kyungsoo’s sake, but more for his own.  
For now, for ever, he would just watch Kyungsoo.  
Watch as he smiled at other people, laughed with other people, held them close. Sometimes Chanyeol got tired of the pain, the loneliness, and tried to move closer. Kyungsoo never paid attention to him when he did, or pushed him away. And the knife dug in deeper.  
Jongin was out on an overnight schedule, which meant it was just the two of them that night. A rare occasion that Chanyeol both hated and desired.  
The silence itched his nerves, and eventually Chanyeol succumbed. He got off his bed and dumped himself on to Kyungsoo’s. “What’re you doing, Kyungsoo-ya?”  
The other kept his eyes on his phone screen. “I’m busy.”  
Kyungsoo’s eyebrows were furrowed and he had his pink lips stuck out. He was reading something intently, but Chanyeol was not deterred. He had become immune to this sort of reaction. “Come on, I'm bored,” he whined. “Play with me.”  
“No.” Still not looking away from the phone.  
“Come on,” Chanyeol said again. He climbed onto Kyungsoo, felt the muscles of his back beneath his hands. “You’ve been on your phone forever. Play with me.” _Look at me._  
Kyungsoo shifted, and Chanyeol got off of him. His expression was not sweet. “I never get to rest. Can’t you see I'm tired?” He turned back to his phone and muttered something.  
_Selfish._ Chanyeol heard the word like it had been whispered into his ear. He got off the bed and looked down at Kyungsoo for a reaction.  
Nothing. Chanyeol might as well have not existed now that he had stopped pestering him.  
His brain was screaming at him to keep his mouth shut, to just walk away, but somehow the scream was being drowned out by the whisper. Selfish…  
“I’m selfish?” Chanyeol’s voice came out much louder than he had intended. “Me? When you don't even give a damn about me?”  
Kyungsoo turned round, surprised eyes on him. “What?”  
“When you push me away every time I try to get close to you? When you ignore me all the time?” The words were spilling out before Chanyeol could stop them. _You never stop to think about how much you hurt me, and_ I'm _selfish? When you look at him like you never look at me and I never say anything, and I’m still selfish?_ He almost said those words aloud, but his throat closed up and killed them.  
It was a good thing. Kyungsoo sat up, visibly stunned. His mouth opened, but no words came out.  
Chanyeol could feel his thoughts clawing at his throat, and he turned around and stalked away before they escaped. The dorm felt like a prison and he was trapped, trapped with his pounding heart, and with Kyungsoo. He jerked the sliding doors open and walked out into the balcony.  
The winter air was a wolf, biting at Chanyeol’s skin. He didn't mind. He wanted the wind to push at him, wash out the burning feeling in his throat and his mind. He sat down on the tiled floor, felt the cold cut through his jeans. Chanyeol’s breath was a brief hanging mist in the darkness, and he watched it disappear into nothing.  
The anger was ebbing. Chanyeol wasn't angry at Kyungsoo, that was unfair. Kyungsoo didn't know; Chanyeol had tried very hard to make sure of that. He wasn't angry at Jongin either. Chanyeol was just angry at life. At fate. At his own stupid heart.  
He sat out there, watching his breath mist and disappear. He felt like some sort of epiphany was right in front of him, that if he reached out his hand he could feel it swirling around his fingers. Chanyeol sat in the night air, watching as he breathed out mist like an ice dragon, but no epiphany came to him.

After all of Chanyeol’s anger had drained out and his heart was cold from the night air, the door to the balcony slid open and Junmyeon’s head poked out. “Chanyeol-ah, come eat,” he said, putting on a bright smile. “It’s freezing out here.”  
Chanyeol looked at Junmyeon. Did he know? Probably. Jongdae knew. Chanyeol had caught him staring one day, his eyes filled with barely-concealed pity. That had hurt more than any of Kyungsoo’s apathy. That look in Jongdae’s eyes, like Chanyeol was a pathetic, pitiable thing. Sometimes Chanyeol wondered if he was right.  
It was almost boiling inside after the cold of the balcony. They sat in a circle, the seven of them, eating delivered chicken. Kyungsoo ate in silence, but that wasn't out of the ordinary. Chanyeol joked and laughed as hard as he could, but it all sounded empty, even to his own ears. Afterwards he played video games with Baekhyun until Baekhyun went to bed, and Chanyeol was forced to return to his room.  
It was dark inside. Kyungsoo was already asleep. Chanyeol didn't know whether he was grateful for that. He did not want to face Kyungsoo after all that had happened, but he wanted to apologize to him too.  
Chanyeol tossed sleeplessly for a while, and then sat up. He looked over at Kyungsoo’s bed, and when he was sure he was sleeping, he went and climbed in next to him.  
Kyungsoo wouldn't wake up, Chanyeol knew that. He had been so busy recently he fell into deep sleep as soon as he lay down. Chanyeol also knew it was pathetic and invasive, what he was doing, but he didn't give a damn. It soothed his heart for a short while, and Kyungsoo never knew.  
He was sleeping flat on his back, and Chanyeol curled up next to him, gently pressing the top of his head against Kyungsoo’s ear, keeping his face by Kyungsoo’s neck. He tried to keep his breathing shallow. Kyungsoo smelled clean and delicate, like an unopened lavender bud. The sort of scent that could drive a person insane, but slowly. It had already seeped itself into Chanyeol’s brain, and he didn't think he could ever escape from it.  
He hooked one of Kyungsoo’s legs with his own. The hem of his pants rode up a little, and Kyungsoo’s bare skin touched Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol had to cramp up and bend almost double, but the smooth skin he felt against his ankle was worth it and more.  
He rested his hand on Kyungsoo’s chest, felt the hard muscle beneath his palm, the sharp collarbones at his fingertips. Kyungsoo was so much bigger now. There was a time Chanyeol felt like he could cover his whole body with his two hands. Those days seemed more than an eternity ago. Chanyeol’s soft, delicate Kyungsoo had become hard and tough. It was a toughness that he had extended to his heart. Chanyeol sometimes missed those sunrise-tinted days, but they were long gone. Kyungsoo had changed, and Chanyeol had not loved him any less.  
“What are you doing?”  
The words were clear, flat, and cut through pink memories. Chanyeol turned up to find Kyungsoo looking at him, eyes open.  
“Just… trying to sleep.” Chanyeol tried to keep his tone light, joking. His insides were turning to lead, and the poisoning spread like pestilence.  
Kyungsoo tilted his head downwards and parted his lips slightly. The scent of him was intoxicating. The moonlight enchanted his face into something beyond human, like a night fae. Chanyeol stared at him, rapt, until the enchantment moved his body and he leaned up and pressed his lips against Kyungsoo’s.  
Those lips were soft, softer than any dream ever dreamt. All of Chanyeol’s senses exploded with the touch of them. Behind his closed eyes he could still see the moonlight. He pulled himself up the bed, brought his face level with Kyungsoo’s. He probed gently, and beyond every fantasy he had ever imagined, Kyungsoo opened his mouth to him.  
The taste of him set Chanyeol’s every nerve on fire. It was an ecstasy beyond reality. Kyungsoo’s tongue brushed against Chanyeol’s, and then Chanyeol was kissing him deeply, like he needed that taste to breathe. He ran his hand through Kyungsoo’s rough, short hair, and every strand seemed to cut at his fingers. He was glad. Any more pleasure and he thought he might burst.  
Finally Chanyeol pulled away, breathless. He looked at Kyungsoo’s face illuminated by the winter moon. Those dark round eyes were closed, the pink lips still slightly parted.  
Emotions crashed inside Chanyeol like the high tide against a rocky beach. There was disbelief, shock, an elation brighter than the sun. They coursed through his veins, concentrating in his heart. They bubbled together while Chanyeol lay with his forehead touching Kyungsoo’s, trying to breathe again.  
Kyungsoo didn't say anything. He lay with his forehead touching Chanyeol’s, eyes closed. And then he turned his head and murmured, “Where are you going?”  
Chanyeol was frozen as all those emotions drained out of him to be replaced by a cold realization. Kyungsoo was sleep-talking. He was asleep, and had been all this time.  
He had been dreaming, replacing Chanyeol’s lips with someone else’s in his mind.  
A painful, bitter laugh rose up in Chanyeol’s throat. He pressed his mouth against Kyungsoo’s shoulder, trying to shove the laugh down. It choked there, and replaced itself with a heavy lump. Chanyeol’s throat closed up, and he was afraid he might start sobbing.  
He didn't. The sudden pain had become a hollow understanding. This was Chanyeol’s fate. A kiss stolen from a sleeping man. This was all he had, all he'd ever get.  
Kyungsoo was sleeping peacefully now, and as Chanyeol got up, he stopped for a moment to stroke his short spiky hair. Then he returned to his own bed, and stared at the ceiling until sleep took him.

The next morning Chanyeol apologized, and Kyungsoo brushed it off, saying it was unnecessary. He looked about to say something else, but Chanyeol fled, pretending he had not noticed.  
Jongin also returned to the dorm the next morning. Chanyeol threw an arm around his shoulders when he came in and told him he was glad he was back. Despite everything, he meant it.  
When everyone had dispersed and no one was looking, Kyungsoo stroked Jongin’s hair and smiled at him, that special smile he never gave anyone else. Jongin smiled back, half-embarrassed, and then Kyungsoo moved his hand away and they went back to looking like nothing more than friends.  
Chanyeol didn’t have to see it to know what happened. It was what always happened. He didn’t want to look anymore, but he could always see it in his mind’s eye. That delicate touch, that loving smile. That scene in which he was nothing more than a hidden spectator.  
He closed his eyes and drove out that image with another. A memory. The touch of soft lips on his own, the gentle scent of lavender and vanilla. A brief memory, but one that burned like the fiercest star in the sky.  
Chanyeol took that memory and held it close to his flayed, cut heart. It healed the wounds, but it pushed the blade in deeper.  
Jealousy is not a monster. It is a knife. But maybe one day the blade would turn dull, and Chanyeol could pull it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this was difficult. It's a combination of the areas I struggle with the most: romance, emotional writing and short prose. Still, I enjoyed writing it. It was a fun challenge.


End file.
